Are you a scuba diver and think you know everything about diving? Drop into our world! Are you ready for a podcast that pushes the envelope? Raw real talk about industry practices and some dive stories in between. Grab a beer as we take over the airwaves!

There isn’t a better commercial diving podcast out there. All things dive, all real, and not afraid to give it to you straight.

In this episode, we visit Jon Council at the Avalon Dive Museum on Catalina Island. He talks with us about the Historical Dive Society and what they are all about! We had a blast talking with Jon about his mission and passion in diving. A great episode full of amazing stories you will want to listen to over and over. Please visit HDS.org for more info and to become a member! We feel that preserving our Dive history is very important!

Learn more at The Bottom Dwellers Live Shack

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The Historical Diving Society USA, (HDS USA) the diving industry’s registrars of all things relative to its history will again be exhibiting at the largest dive industry trade show, this year in Vegas, America’s playground.

The long-awaited return of DEMA, like most large gathering events was in hiatus mode during the height of Covid viral threats is highly anticipated as a sign and welcome return to more normal times.

The HDS USA has exhibited at every DEMA show since 1995 and looks forward to seeing colleagues again while promoting our non-profit organization’s mission of “Preservation through Education”

The Society’s new issue of the Journal of Diving History, with a cover story on the History of Cave Diving by famed explorer, author and Women Divers Hall of Fame members Jill Heinerth, has just been published and will be available at the Society booth, number “1851”

With the event back on track, industry leaders are beyond enthusiastic to promote their businesses and rekindle long held industry relationships and to foster new ones.

As a DEMA partner, the HDS USA will have both its traditional display booth and vintage diving equipment exhibit featuring dive gear that made up the early examples of the scuba revolution during the last century.

Again, come visit us at DEMA booth #1851 and our vintage display exhibit located adjacent to the main event entry area. We hope that you will consider supporting this valuable service to the diving industry.

After all, it is through your support via memberships and donations that makes these important historical preservation works a reality.

Look forward to sea-ing you at the show!

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The program, launched by ocean pioneer Ilan G. Koblick and astronaut/aquanaut Scott Carpenter, allows divers to pilot a sub, perform experiments inside an undersea laboratory, use surface-supplied diving gear, work with a diving bell and use underwater construction tools. At the end of the day, divers sleep beneath the surface of the ocean aboard the world’s only undersea hotel, Jules’ Undersea Lodge. Part of the success of the MITS program is its location at the Marine Resources Development Foundation’s

facility, built on a protected ocean fed private lagoon with a depth of 30 feet / 9 meters. This provides beginners with the perfect place to learn and practice with offshore equipment.

Participants can gain long-term exposure experience in three saturation diving systems that allow divers to live under pressure and only decompress once, at the end of their dives. Pressure inside the systems is never more than 22 feet / 7 meters of seawater, so divers can surface without making an in-water decompression stop, even after several days or months underwater. Two of the three saturation systems are underwater habitats:

La Chalupa, better known as Jules’ Undersea Lodge, and Medusa, now known as Marine Lab. The third is a diving bell launched from a topside barge. La Chalupa was built in 1972 by Perry Submarine Builders as part of a program sponsored by the foundation and the government of Puerto Rico. It served as a research facility 10 miles off the coast of Puerto Rico from 1972 to 1976. In 1985, it was refitted to become the Jules’ Undersea Lodge and has been in operation then as an underwater facility for recreation and science, it sleeps six in comfort, while providing ample work and recreation space.

The Medusa was built by U.S. Naval Academy midshipmen in 1973 as an engineering project. It was placed in 25 feet / & meters at John Pennekamp State Park, Fla., in 1984, before being moved the following year to its present site. More spartan than La Chalupa, the habitat is similar to those found in most scientific laboratories. A special feature is a 5-foot/ 1.5-meter acrylic observation sphere below the main habitat structure. The sphere can be entered through a hatch in the deck without re-entering the water.

Participants can gain long-term exposure experience in three saturation diving systems that allow divers to live under pressure and only decompress once, at the end of their dives.

The diving bell was called the Perry 1 Hurricane System when it was built in 1975 by Perry Submarine. The system, which includes a triple-lock recompression chamber on the barge deck, was designed to ferry divers to work at depths to 650 feet / 199 meters. Although the relatively shallow lagoon floor prohibits going to such depths now, the bell does provide the experience of being lowered to a seafloor work site. Once down, divers exit the bell to practice operating tools used in underwater construction by today’s high-tech commercial divers.

The MITS sub, the Sea Urehin, is a 10-foot / 3-meter one man submersible built by International Hardsuits Inc. It is capable of diving up to 300 feet / 91 meters. Participants learn submersible operation-and theory under the guidance of Sea Urchin Systems instructors, before diving solo in the confines of

the protected lagoon. In other programs, divers are trained in using Divelink gear, AGA and lightweight. EXO commercial masks with communications and surface and bell supplied diving gear, and ancillary equipment such as hookah setups, underwater video and diver-propulsion vehicles.

Up to 18 divers, working in teams of six; can participate in MITS programs at one time. All facilities are

linked by video for monitoring and enhanced communication. Activities of the divers’ final mission day are captured on tape to be broadcast live via satellite and are a powerful interactive educational tool for museums, aquariums and classrooms.

The MITS Team

Program developers lan G. Koblick and Scott Carpenter are veterans of the Man in the Sea programs of the 1960s and 70s who organized an all-star team of underwater explorers.

Koblick was a program manager and aquanaut on La Chalupa and Tektite II and l, the saturation diving experiments conducted by the National Aeronautics and Space. Administration in underwater habitats off the Virgin Islands in the early 1970s. A widely regarded authority on undersea living, he co-authored the book Living and Working in the Sea. Scott Carpenter will always be remembered as a Mercury 7astronaut and the second American to orbit the earth. Carpenter joined the U.S. Navy’s Man in the Sea program in 1963, where he served as an aquanaut team commander during U.S. Navy’s Sea lab II and III experiments.

Under Koblick’s direction, the Marine Resources Development Foundation has championed undersea research and environmental education since 1970, Introducing thousands of people to the marine world.

The MITS board of advisers is a who’s Who in Undersea Exploration. Among the members are Navy aquanaut, Bob Barth of the Sea Lab I, II, and III projects; Dr. Andy Rechnitzes, a former science adviser to the Oceanographer of the Navy and manager of the Trieste project: Dick Bonin a former chief executive officer of Scubapro ; Dr. Eugenie Clark, shark researcher and professor at the University of Maryland; Dr. Sylvia Earle, aquanaut In Tektite ll and Hydrolab, marine botanist, president of Deep Ocean Engineering and former chief scientist of National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration: Dr. Jim Miller former director of NOAA’ manned undersea Programs; Andre Golerne, a commercial driving pioneer and owner of International Underwater Construction Inc. John Hurt, the driving pioneer who became chief executive officer of Oceaneering International, Emory Kristof National Geographic photographer and explorer of the Titanic: Bev Morgan developer of the Band mask EXO-26 and Super Lite helmets Dr. Michael Gernardt, NASA astronaut and founder of Ocean Space Systems; Phil Nuytten, underwater explorer, co-founder Oceaneering International and developer of the Newtsuit; and famed underwater film makers Stan Waterman and John Stoneman.

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No longer the exotic preserve of a daring few, scuba diving is becoming as popular and as accessible as alpine skiing. It’s a sport that is opening up a whole new frontier to the average adventurer. If you do not have a breathing or lung problem and you can swim, you can dive. As more and more people explore the depths on scuba, important clues to Ontario’s history are being discovered within her rivers and lakes.

Thousands of shipwrecks have been found in Ontario waters, each revealing a precious clue to our maritime history. No other region in the world can boast so many freshwater-preserved artifacts; not surprising, since Ontario grew up on the Great Lakes, depending on transit-by-water for everything from food and commerce to mobility and communication.

The excitement and enjoyment of wreck diving has even led to the deliberate sinking of vessels, as in the case of the M.V. Wolfe Islander. The 165-foot steel ferry linked Kingston to Wolfe Island from 1935 until 1957. Retired and unwanted, she was acquired in 1985 by Kingston divers who prepared her for a permanent resting place 80 feet beneath the surface. She now acts as a scuba divers playground attracting thousands of underwater visitors each year.

Few ships are as carefully placed and easy to find as the Wolfe Islander. Most shipwrecks are discovered either by fluke or after months, even years, of in-depth research and tedious underwater explorations. The discovery of the Hamilton and Scourge in 1973, for example, was a result of painstaking archival study and exhaustive dives through the waters of Lake Ontario.

The two American armed merchant schooners were lost in a sudden squall near Hamilton during the war of 1812. After determining the probable location of the vessels, a search team went out and combed the lake bottom with side-scan sonar until the vessels were found under 230 feet of water. Both ships are sitting upright, almost perfectly preserved in the cold depths of Lake Ontario. Remote photographic surveys have given archaeologists a clearer picture of the era’s ship building techniques and have revealed valuable facts about the ill-prepared American navy in its war with Britain.

Although the depth of some wrecks, like the Hamilton and the Scourge, puts them out of the range of sport divers, a great many more lie in easy-to-reach waters. The greatest concentration of accessible shipwrecks in Ontario can be found off the tip of the Bruce Peninsula, where Lake Huron meets Georgian Bay. Here, within the crystal-green waters of Fathom Five Underwater Park, Canada’s first underwater park, lie at least 21 known shipwrecks.

The focal point for the park is Tobermory, a small port that thrived as a haven for weather-weary ships and now hosts thousands of eager tourists each year. The town revolves around its maritime life as divers, boaters and sightseers cruise in and out of the harbour to explore the region’s attractions.

For divers, it’s a dream come true: clean water, good visibility and so many wrecks it would take weeks to explore them all. Fathom Five is considered to possess the greatest collection of freshwater wrecks on the continent, if not the entire world.

Complementing the fleet of sunken ships are beautiful and unusual geological formations. Ancient glacial retreats and water erosion have sculpted the limestone foundation, creating enormous, pockmarked rocks and mysterious subterranean caves. The impact of geological events that transpired millions of years ago can still be seen and felt today.

On land, remnants of the province’s prehistoric past are no less dramatic. Towering columns of earth and rock, like maritime hoodoos, were chiselled out of the bluffs of one island named Flowerpot because of the flower-topped rock towers that dot her shores.

With so much to enjoy in and around the water, Tobermory satisfies both divers and non-divers, For marine enthusiasts not inclined to take the plunge, the wonders of the underwater world can still be experienced through glass-bottom boats. As the crafts cruise across the surface, spectators peer down onto shallow wrecks and beautiful rock formations.

One of the most popular destinations for glass-bottom boaters and divers alike is a pair of old wrecks resting in 20 feet of water. The schodner Sweepstakes and the steamer City of Grand Rapids are easily reached by boat near the end of Big Tub, a large harbor just west of Tobermory. Of the two, the Sweepstakes seems to best symbolize Ontario’s marine heritage.

She was launched in the year of Confederation from Wellington Square (now Burlington), then a

major center of maritime commerce. For nearly 20 years, she hauled ‘cargo throughout the province during the golden years of sail. Then, ironically, in 1885, the year our national railroad was completed, foreboding the sunset of the heyday of sail, the Sweepstakes became stranded off Cove Island, and was ultimately towed into harbor where she sank.

As more people venture down, more sites are discovered and. This encourages more diving. This growing trend has spawned brand-new tourist destinations and generated millions of dollars in diving spinoffs.

Unfortunately, the influx of recreational divers has placed a strain on underwater artifacts. Pirates, souvenir seekers and salvage operators have stripped some ships to the bone, defrocking them of the historical clues they offer.

To conserve Ontario’s marine heritage, a number of groups have taken up the challenge of sensitizing diving public to the importance of Bae shipwrecks.

One of the largest organizations in this conservation crusade is Save Ontario Shipwrecks (SOS), a non-profit organization made up of sport divers and amateur marine archeologists. Established in 1981, with the support of the Ontario Government, SOS has become an unofficial curator of the province’s underwater “museums.”

In addition to their role as educators, local SOS chapters chart sunken resources, survey shipwrecks and piece together our maritime history through archival study and pictorial collections. These activities are encouraged and supported by the marine Heritage Unit of the Ministry of Culture and communications. The Ministry also provides funding, expertise and on-site support.

The arrangement is unique in North America and has earned Ontario divers respect and admiration

from the world’s diving community. Best of all, the cooperative work has made dozens of shipwrecks more interesting to-explore by sharing the stories each site has to tell.

The variety of subjects isn’t restricted by type, location or age either. They range from an inundated the mining town up the Ottawa Valley to sunken ships, locomotives and aircraft in lakes, rivers, and quarries around the province. Divers have discovered pots near Gananoque dating back to.300 B.C., while recent additions to the depths, like the 1975 sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald in Lake Superior, become almost instant legends.

The shipwreck Lillie Parsons is a good example of how Ontario’s history is being discovered and preserved by groups like SOS, launched on September 14,1868, the wooden a schooner was a conduit of commerce between Great Lakes ports from Brockville to Chicago. Her life span was abruptly cut short in August of 1877 as she headed for Brockville with a load of coal. It was a calm Sunday and the Lillie’s email crew would have been flying all her sails to increase steerageway through the treacherous narrows of the St. Lawrence River.

The calm was suddenly over-whelmed by a tremendous squall. Pushed over, her cargo of coal thrown to one side, the Lillie began to list and take on water over the railings. Her startled crew would have scrambled frantically to pull down sails, but to no avail. There was no saving her. The crew made it, but the Lillie went down on the shoal of a nearby island.

Years later, time and the relentless currents conspired to pull her under where she now lies, upside down and parallel to the current. She slopes down with her stern in 40 feet of water and her bow at about 50 feet. To dive on her, a short boat trip to Sparrow Island is necessary. Her original anchor was retrieved and erected on the island with the chain leading back to the ship. This inverted anchorage now acts as a unique point of departure for scuba divers.

Slipping beneath the surface from shore, you work your way down the chain, like a repelling mountain climber in slow motion, only here the current, not gravity, is the main force. Before long, the stern of the Lillie is visible, you let go of the chain and propel yourself downward following the Hull to the depths.

Something glistens on the side of the ship. You move in for a closer look. A bronze information plaque has been fastened to the hull; part of the work done by SOS divers. Her along you notice another plaque which explains the peculiar aluminum trough jutting out from the hull. It’s full of artifacts that went down with the Lillie Parsons.

Many articles were retrieved, recorded and carefully returned to the Lillie for the enjoyment of all divers.

SOS plans to upgrade the presentation by replacing the trough with a sealed, plexiglass display case full of authentic artifacts preserved in solution. Many other wrecks can expect similarly conscientious treatment as SOS continues its museums-of-the-deep initiatives.

Local SOS chapters have prepared profiles on dozens of shipwrecks, outlining their histories, explaining their present condition, and offering interpretive trails complete with well-marked access points and identification plaques. Just east of the Lillie Parsons ‘resting place, two more SOS finds have been charted near Prescott: the Conestoga and the Rothesay.

The Conestoga, a finely crafted wooden steamer, was launched in 1678, a time when steamers were replacing sailing ships as the workhorses of the Great Lakes. The quality of workmanship was heralded at the time of her launch by a Cleveland paper “. . . fitted out in all proportions with a care to strength, durability and beauty. It’s estimated that her cost will be near $90,000.”

But by 1922, when she met her disastrous end, she had become as inefficient as the sailing ships she was built to replace. After 44 years of hauling cargo, she mysteriously caught fire at lock 28 of the Old Galop Canal near Prescott. All her crew had left the ship, leaving no belongings aboard. Despite efforts to quell the flames. little could be done to save her. She was flushed out of the locks, drifted downstream, ran aground and finally sank in about 30 feet of water.

Her black, rusted smokestack is rote from shore, rising 10 feet above the surface. Beneath the waves the Conestoga’s 200-foot shell offers divers a chilling exhibit of a 19th-century steamer’s remains.

The Rothesay was built in Saint John, New Brunswick, in 1867 and is one of only a few ocean -launched vessels to ply Ontario’s waterways. Her great size and construction as a wooden side-wheeler made her a major attraction for the passengers she ferried between Montreal and Brockville until 1903.

At the time she was the largest excursion ship on the St. Lawrence, measuring 193 feet by 29 feet. In 1903 she collided with the tugboat Myra about a mile upstream from Prescott. All the Rothesay’s 60 passengers made it safely to shore in lifeboats. Two of Myra’s crew were lost in the tragedy.

The Rothesay lies in two sections about 300 yards offshore in 30 feet of water. Her two paddle wheels are visible, as are the remains of her boilers and engine. To reach her, divers swim out from shore to a buoy, and descend to a series of guidelines that lead all the way to her hull. The visibility is about 15 feet, which is above average for the St. Lawrence.

Throughout the province, underwater monuments rest silently, waiting to tell their stories to those who venture to see them. Although each visitor may approach the experience differently — on scuba or snorkeling or gazing through the hull of a glass bottom boat — every visit unconsciously pays tribute to a romantic era of Ontario’s past.

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Based in Maitland, Florida, Ward represents a number of high-profile clients in underwater and space exploration, including Mercury astronaut and Sealab aquanaut Scott Carpenter, Sealab aquanaut Robert Barth, Skylab astronaut Edward Gibson, and oceanographer Andreas Rechnitzer, science director of the Trieste, a submersible that in 1960 descended to the deepest known point in the ocean.

Like many children growing up in the 1960s, Ward’s first exposure to the undersea world came from watching Jacques Cousteau on television. While he dreamed of becoming a scuba diver, he also grew fascinated with space exploration. “I had a thirst for exploring alien worlds,” he remembers, “but I figured space flight was a long shot, so I set my sights on scuba diving to discover what the oceans of this planet had to offer.”

Ward’s early influences have played a pivotal part in shaping the direction of his work. In 1994 he developed and promoted the Scott Carpenter Man In The Sea Program, an undersea educational experience inspired by the well-known astronaut and aquanaut, and in 1995 he coordinated a live interactive underwater satellite broadcast called SeaLink, which connected middle and high school students at an aquanaut undersea training center in Florida with students at museums in Washington and North Carolina. The same year, he coordinated SeaForum, a conference exploring the adaptability of humans to undersea living.

In 1997 NASA again contracted Ward, this time to coordinate an education and outreach program centred around the Scott Carpenter Space Analog Station, a small, portable underwater habitat. The program educated the public about the difficulties of – and similarities between living in sea and space.

When Ward isn’t rubbing elbows with some of this century’s most intrepid explorers, he’s likely talking a well-deserved dive vacation. But even then he’s up for a challenge, preferring to chart unusual territory.

“The most unique dive I’ve ever experienced was in Quebec’s frozen Lac McGregor,” he says, “playing upside-down ice hockey.”

Read More PADI Diving Society

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Here, five fathoms beneath the surface of Largo Lagoon, guests vacation: living, eating, sleeping and dreaming at the Jules’ Undersea Lodge the world’s first inner space inn. After almost three decades of pioneering aquanaut missions, the way has been cleared for the average person to live, in comfort, in the sea.

The staging point for this “futuristic” reality is a modest lagoon set amid the palm trees and mangroves of Key Largo, gateway to the keys and the largest island in the chain. It’s a convenient and enjoyable one-hour drive south of Miami along U.S. Highway #1.

That first moment when water embraces you is an eerie, almost magical experience. Like passing through the looking glass into a strange new world. Sounds crackle and creak. Goose-pimples spring up and gravity fades, as one is consumed by the gentle, uplifting force of buoyancy. Nowhere else on earth can one escape gravity’s grip to float free.

At 12 feet the top of the habitat appears. Pushing away from the side of the steel structure, you float down to the seafloor, at 30 feet. Finally, the submerged inn is seen from a normal perspective, but that doesn’t mean it looks normal. With an up-slanted bow and broad rectangular base resting on four large, hydraulic legs, the 20-by-50-foot vessel resembles an alien spacecraft rather than an underwater inn.

Your guide, a sort of diving bellhop, approaches the center of the habitat and ducks under its base. You follow expectantly, mesmerized by the splay of tiny bubbles clinging to the underside of the lodge; exhaust from the regulators. Then, almost instantly a large rectangle of light flutters into view overhead the open doorway to Jules’ Undersea Lodge.

It is amazing to burst up through fluid into an air-filled chamber. The “lobby” is officially called the “wet room.” All the diving gear is stored in this 20-by-10- foot space with a bathroom and shower located opposite the car-sized entry/exit pool. You peel off your wetsuit, step into a soothingly hot shower and slip into a fluffy J.U.L.’s bathrobe, ready for a guided tour of the H2Otel.

On each side of the wet room are two large living areas. One is divided into two bedrooms, each with double bunks, a mini-fridge, stereo/TV/VCR and a porthole. The other is a common area which features a full kitchen, dining area (which can double as a bed) and a stereo/TV/VCR combo. The facilities are luxurious, if not surprisingly spacious.

After the guide leaves and you are alone under the sea, it is unbelievably peaceful – isolated – truly away from it all Gazing out the porthole as fish float past, it’s easy to fall into the deepest of day- dreams and to forget that life above ever existed.

 You settle in, admiring your ultra-private enclave and begin picking away at the bowl of fruit and nuts. Attention shifts to the many cupboards in the common room where you discover a collection of audio tapes including: Also Sprach Zara-thustra, The Blue Danube and a Bach organ Toccata (Captain Nemo’s favorite). Deciding on Handel’s Water Music you are amazed at the depth of sound under-water. Every sense is heightened in this unique living environment.

Before long, you and your partner are contemplating a stroll around the lagoon so after unpacking you suit up and step out. It’s about as effortless a dive as you can imagine. No surf to trudge through, no rocking boat to contend with, just a quick slip into the sea. You don’t even have to worry about adjusting to the pressure since you live in it now.

Fin-flicking under and away from the habitat, you swim into green-tinged sunrays and swaying plant life. You confront a gang of curious hogfish. The biggest one is about two feet long, but, magnified by your mask, it seems more like three feet. He comes right up to your face, nudges your mask and darts off. You look behind to see the rest of the gang hovering over your head, seemingly amused by it all.

A few leisurely kicks lifts you effortlessly to the top of the lodge. It’s much brighter on top, and you notice two elegant angelfish meandering over an encrusted hatch. On the far side of the lodge you see a 20-foot sign proclaiming Jules’ Undersea Lodge, a great photo opportunity. Back near the entrance, you dip under once again and then up into the wet room – safe and saturated.

Another hot shower and you dress for dinner. Your pre-ordered meal is sitting in the refrigerator, waiting to be microwaved to life. While it’s cooking, you and your dinner mate fork through crispy hearts-of-palm salad and sip soft drinks. Alcohol is taboo underwater. The reaction to it is too unpredictable. The oven beeps and you feast on fresh fish while your buddy savors filet mignon. For dessert – Key Lime Pie and coffee.

 After dinner you peruse the selection of video tapes: 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, Splash, The Deep, Alien. You settle for a sea-themed James Bond flick, and spy out the window to compare the movie with reality. It’s amazing to watch the underwater scenes, UNDER-WATER!

Pausing the movie, you microwave some popcorn and dim the lights for the movie’s frantic conclusion. The action has you eager to dive again and even though it’s almost midnight, you advise Mission Control of your plans. You dress in the shower, filling your suit with hot water to ease the water’s chill. By the entry pool, you and your buddy check each other’s gear and wave goodbye to the video camera monitoring you Dive lights in hand, you slide into the pool and swim out into the black abyss.

Night diving requires a great deal of control, especially over one’s imagination. It’s easy to conjure up images of killer sharks, moray eels and sea monsters when you’re sur-rounded by cold darkness and eerie sounds. A flashlight is no match for the dark depths but you swim on, bolstered by pulsing adrenaline.

Clambering along the side of the facility lends a sense of security, until you reach the end. Your buddy motions you on with an encouraging wave of his light (nice guy), so you take a lurch of faith into open water and your breathing deepens. It’s frightening and exhilarating all at the same time, like a walk in outer space.

Your breathing eventually normalizes and you begin to swim more confidently. The light catches a few drowsy fish which sparkle like sequined mobiles hanging in a dark room. There’s a faint glow to the lagoon, a strange, almost hypnotic phosphorescence, unlike anything on earth. Your sense of amazement has conquered apprehension so you go on exploring, wide-eyed and goose pimpled. Eventually, the chill convinces you to call it a night, so you and your diving companion scoot back to the warmth of the lodge – dazzled and drained.

In bed now, staring out the window past your feet, angelfish traipse past, illuminated by the habitat’s outdoor light. It’s the last thing you see on your first day undersea.

Even before your wake-up call rings through, your eyes pop open with anticipation for the day’s coming adventures. The angelfish is still at the window, only now there’s a dark greenish hue surrounding it. Dawn is on its way. Minute by minute the water gets brighter. Uniformly, the green glow grows and you notice the stirrings of life outside.

A quick call up to Mission Control and it’s off to the wet room to prepare for another short dive before check-out time. The pool is bright green now and the groupers are still hanging around. You plunk in, scaring them off, but other more curious fish tag along as you circumnavigate the Lodge. The water seems a great deal warmer than it was the night before and the sea is vibrant with morning activity.

Back inside the Lodge once more, you hungrily prepare breakfast of smoked Canadian ham and crispy Belgian waffles topped with strawberries and whipped cream. And all too soon the time has come to pack up for the return to land.

Your guide beckons from the entry pool, so you bring your plastic-wrapped belongings to be stuffed into the pelican cases.

You suit up and with one last look you say a silent goodbye and slip into the exit pool. You break through into fresh air and blinding sunlight. Again, your senses are heightened, this time to the familiar sights of trees, birds and clouds.

Back at the small office where you checked in the day before, you are congratulated and presented with an “Aquanaut Certificate”, officially sealing the experience one that is sure to rest deep in your soul.

To ease the transition from living in the sea and land-lubbing it, visitors can immerse themselves in the unique “by-the-sea” lifestyle of the Florida Keys. Everything is connected to the sea: attractions, accommodation, restaurants and especially recreation.

Fun in the water takes many forms in the Keys: parasailing over the sea, winding a canoe through channel-crossed islands or slicing through aquamarine swells on jet or water skis. The waters surrounding the Florida Keys sport many exotic and challenging game fish or for a friendlier approach to sea life, why not try swimming with dolphins. This unique interactive experience is offered at Dolphins Plus in Key Largo and Theater of the Sea at Islamorada.

The main attraction of the Keys is John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park — the world’s first undersea park. The park consists of 2,300 acres of lush parkland and a 21 by three mile stretch of precious ocean. It was dedicated in 1960 to protect the rare and fragile coral reef environment off the shores of Key Largo. The park is by far the most popular diving destination in the U.S.A.

Perhaps nowhere else in the world is the balance between water and land so evenly struck. Every step taken offers a new treasure chest of sights and sounds, merging tropical climate and an easy-going island lifestyle with exciting activities and aquatic adventures — even living in the sea.

The post The Deep Sleep: Underwater Overnighting in Key Largo appeared first on Historical Diving Society.

“I thought about my grandfather losing his life amid the chaos and fear of that night along with 127 other young men.”

“I thought about my father sitting in a boat almost three hundred feet above and realized how anxious he might have been, waiting to see if the same waters that claimed his father would be kinder to his son.”

Athabaskan’s life began with an unlucky berth. While she and her sister ship. HMCS Iroquois lay under construction at Newcastle On Tyne. Iroquois was badly damaged by German bombers and because she was preordained to become Canada’s first Tribal Class Destroyer, bureaucrats chose to switch nameplates with Athabaskan rather than delay her important launch.

That decision seemed to haunt Athabaskan through her brief life. In just over a year of service she suffered damage from bad weather and accidents, was nearly destroyed by one of Germany’s first glider bombers and ultimately ripped apart 5 mils off the coast of France. No wonder she was dubbed “Unlucky Lady.”

 Despite these indignities, Athabaskan performed admirably as one of only four Canadian Tribal Class Destroyers and she remains the most important warship to be sunk in Canadian naval history. Yet for all her wartime import, public awareness of Athabaskan’s sinking faded over the years. In the early 1980s, the publication of “Unlucky Lady, The Life and Death of HMCS Athabaskan” by Emile Beaudoin and Len Burrow helped reawaken an interest in the subject. As a new diver the book fueled my wonder about possibly visiting her wreck site one day.

That possibility became more real in 2000 when I met Canadian filmmaker Wayne Abbott who was working on a documentary about Athabaskan and her survivors. Our mutual passion for the subject led to plans for finding the wreck and mounting a dive expedition focused on honoring her crew and solving the mystery of her untimely death. To unravel the mystery meant going back in time to Athabaskan’s last living moments.

Throughout the spring of 1944 allied naval forces carried out anti-shipping sweeps to erode German naval strength in preparation for the invasion of northwest Europe. As part of the effort, Athabaskan and her sister ship HMCS Haida were ordered to act as distant covering force for eight Motor Launches (MLs) of the 10th ML Flotilla. The launches were to lay mines about nine miles north of the eastern point of the Ile de Bas, an island off the northwest coast of France.

As the Tribals headed out in the early morning hours of April 29, 1944, the coastal radar station at Plymouth Command detected two enemy vessels off the French coast. At 0307, the C-in-C Plymouth, Admiral Sir Ralph Leatham, ordered Haida and Athabaskan to proceed southwest at full speed to intercept.

At 0359 Athabaskan picked-up targets on radar, later confirmed as German destroyers T-24 and T-27. Haida concurred and an enemy report was made. The Tribals embarked on an intercept course and at 0412 the order was given to engage the enemy. The battle had begun. At 0417 Athabaskan was rocked by an explosion on her port side, aft. Crippled and badly on fire the crew struggled to keep their ship afloat. At 0427 a massive explosion broke her apart and with bow raised, she sank in minutes.

The cause of that first explosion likely came from a torpedo fired by the German destroyer T-24 as it turned away eastward. The cause of the second explosion that sent Athabaskan to the bottom became the subject of great controversy. Some survivors still claim she was the victim of friendly fire – a tragically mistaken attack by a British Motorized Torpedo Boat (MTB) launched in the confusion of battle.

According to official investigations shortly after the sinking and subsequent examination by historians, the large fire that burned out of control after the first explosion led to a chain of events that caused the second, and by virtually all accounts, more powerful internal explosion. The only way to solve the mystery would be to visit Athabaskan and see if the ship would give up her secrets. But first we had to find her.

Our search was aided by Jacques Ouchakoff, president of the French Athabaskan Associations Armed with only a depth finder and small ROV, Jacques had searched the waters off France’s Brittany coast for years with no sign of Athabaskan. Then, in the fall of 2002 he located a promising subject in 285 feet of water about 5.5 miles off the coast off Brittany. Images from his ROV revealed two large guns and an ammunitions locker – clear evidence of a warship. It was enough encouragement to proceed with planning for the dive expedition and documentary effort. For me, the excitement of locating a likely target was tempered the realization that diving to the ship at 285′ would require intense training and specialized equipment. I had accumulated hundreds of dives over almost 20 years but nothing close to this depth or in these conditions. I would need to learn fast too because our window for the expedition was just one week, toward the end of July.

I asked Orlando-based deep dive instructor and Cambrian Foundation president, Terrence Tysall for his help and he generously agreed to train me and participate in the expedition. Coincidentally, my role as public affairs coordinator for NOAA’s Aquarius Undersea Lab offered me the opportunity to train as an aquanaut and saturate in Aquarius during an April training mission. Aquanaut dive training closely parallels that of deep, or “tech” diving, which gave me a good start.

Terrence likened the goal of training me for the 285-foot dive to that of transforming an Appalachian Trail hiker into a Mount Everest climber. The course overview was daunting and the equipment needs extensive. Equipping yourself costs twice as much because redundancy is the golden rule in deep diving. After all, you can’t simply pop up to the surface from a couple hundred feet to replace a broken light or snapped fin strap. Product value takes on a whole new meaning when your life is on the line.

I thought I would really enjoy the month of training dives off Boynton Beach, FL but it was “boot camp” intense. Late night study sessions, dive-planning and gear-prepping, then pre-dawn sorties, pitching seas, hamperingly heavy equipment and that sinking feeling one gets upon realizing there is no turning back – in my case before dropping off the stern for yet an-other deeper dive. It reminded me of my only parachute jump – only here the call to action was, “Dive! Dive! Dive!”

The whole experience gave me a sense for the fear and apprehension that surely grips anyone approaching battle. I found myself imagining how my grandfather must have felt setting out from Plymouth on his first and last battle. It also added meaning to Terrence’s training mantra, “better to sweat in peace than bleed in war”.

That phrase was cold comfort in the face of numerous tests. It seemed Terrence had arranged for unseasonably cool conditions to mimic the English Channel. Without a hood, the 48 degrees water turned into migraine making vice grips. The cold, dark conditions mixed with the deep air diving to produce mind-numbing nitrogen narcosis, accented by a frightening broken mask strap on one dive to 180′.

There were several unwelcome marine life encounters too. In one narced-out state I was “bonged” at close range by a 500lb Goliath grouper. During deco stops I was harassed by a stubbornly affectionate remora, and circled by a hammerhead shark (the urge to emerge was chilled by the fear of getting bends). In all we packed in 15 training dives over one month, each one deeper than the previous, ending with a dive to 305 feet. Two days later we left for France.

In addition to preparing myself for the coming dives I had been serving as the expedition coordinator, planning our objectives and sharing information with the many people who would participate in the project. That meant brushing up on my French, as many of the participants were native “Bretagnes.”

Finally, after years of imagining and months of planning, 25 people converged near the tiny town of Plouguerneau in Brittany, France on July 19. Our headquarters for the expedition was an old country home near the coast, 5.5 miles due south of Athabaskan’s resting place. We quickly converted the charming old house for our purposes, prepping camera equipment and tacking up massive blueprints for frequent briefing sessions.

The participants included two French boat captains (including the discoverer of the wreck site) and their crew. The production crew numbered just four, including Wayne and his wife Jocelyne. We were honoured to be joined by two Athabaskan survivors, Wilf Henrickson and Herm Sulkers. Two representatives of the Canadian Navy were on hand to help analyze footage from our dives and about a dozen other Canadians made the trek including relatives of Athabaskan. My father was there too, visiting, for the first time, the area where his father had perished.

The multinational dive team consisted of local divers Franck Leven and Yves Gladu, Andy Pitkin, an English doctor formerly with the Royal Navy’s hyperbaric department, Terrence from the USA and myself, representing Canada.

Our window for diving stretched five days from Monday, July 21 to Friday, July 25. The tides in that region of the English Channel can whip up currents exceeding 5 knots so our dives were timed to occur precisely at slack tide, when tidal flow stops to reverse direction. We lost 2 days to bad weather but accomplished a lot in 3 days.

It had been almost 9 months since the wreck had been discovered and still no one had ever dived on Athabaskan. So, on dive day one we had to first relocate the ship and secure a downline. The exercise took almost two hours, bringing us dangerously close to the point of missing slack tide, but four divers did go down, returning with valuable footage from three video cameras. I stayed onboard the ROV ship with the camera crew who had hoped to video my reaction to seeing live footage from the wreck, but the ROV missed its mark and unfortunately failed to operate properly throughout the week.

Tuesday, July 22, was a beautiful day to dive. The winds had calmed the seas to about 5-foot swells and the clear skies allowed the sun to warm air temps to near 80. I went down with Terrence and Andy to deploy a 30-pound brass plaque presented to us by the Canadian Navy as a permanent memorial to all Athabaskans. Herm Sulkers had also given us the POW dog tag he had worn for the last year of the war. He wanted us to leave it with his ship and fallen crewmates.

The Descent seemed to take forever as the green water gave way to darkness. It seemed like I was going back in time with each pull on the line until finally we hit the bottom at 285 feet and the events of April 29, 1944 seemed to come alive. The debris strewn across the sea-floor seemed to echo the chaos of battle. Nothing of the ship looked intact. The onslaught of daily tidal currents had ripped her open, and spread her remains amid the rocky and silty bottom. Despite the shock of seeing the once proud ship all beat-up, I felt a warmth at our meeting. The rhythmic resonance of my breathing apparatus produced an eerie yet serene sound, softened even more by the slight narcotic effect of my bottom mix breathing gas (50 He/ 16 02/34 N2). I approached the slightly inverted hull and kneeled next to the ship’s bilge keel, which had rolled upward (indicating a slight “turtling” of the ship). As Terrence cut the Navy plaque from its harness I began to reflect on the incredible place.

I thought about my grandfather losing his life amid the chaos and fear of that night along with 127 other young men. I thought about my father sitting in a boat almost three hundred feet above and realized how anxious he might have been, waiting to see if the same waters that claimed his father would be kinder to his son.

 I grasped the 30lb brass plaque it in both hands and still kneeling, as if in church, placed it lovingly against her bilge keel and read the inscription: “At this site the people of Canada honour the 128 sailors who gave their lives in HMCS Athabaskan, sunk in action with the enemy, 29 April 1944. Protect them whereso’er they go.’

I thought about the painful sacrifices demanded by war, the suffering it exacts and the impact on so many lives over so many years. And I thought about my own journey to this distant, solemn spot, the challenges of getting there and the many reasons for returning safely. Mostly I was calmed by the reverence of the occasion – a peace reflected in my ample remaining gas supply.

At fifteen minutes of bottom time, our tables dictated it was time to ascend and Terrence was happy to put my training to the test. I retrieved my lift bag and cave diving reel and prepared to deploy the bag as I had imagined I would a dozen times before. I unfurled and inflated it sending it on a near 300 ft journey to the surface.

We trailed behind it at the prescribed rate stopping first at 140′ then increments of 10′ for varying minutes. The hour-long de-compression was uneventful but bitterly cold. Even in my new dry-suit, I could appreciate the suffering of the survivors who floated for four hours before being plucked from the sea by the Germans.

I counted the seconds down as the time for our final 100% O2 decompression stop ended and we ascended. Breaking through into sunlight, I was met by the producer and cameraman in a Zodiac. I returned the distant salute of the two survivors Herm and Wilf and warmed to the realization of an incredible adventure. I degeared and swam to the dive boat, where my father helped me aboard and got a big salty hug. We finished the week with just one more day of diving but gathered almost two hours of underwater video footage.

“The sacrifice of those lost in war has an enduring power to inspire respect and fascination long after the loss.”

“That power drove me to reach deeper than I thought possible to meet the grandfather I never knew and honour his ship and crew.”

Over the ensuing months that footage was reviewed, argued over and dissected. The compelling conclusion: the ship’s death was caused by internal explosion not friendly fire from by a British MTB torpedo. Wayne edited over 30 hours of raw footage into an hour-long documentary for History Television Canada. “The Mysterious Sinking of HMCS Athabaskan” aired nationally on April 29, 2004: sixty years to the day after that Unlucky Lady went down. The effects of that tragedy continue to touch people today.

Read more at divermag.com October 2004

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Their breakthrough invention which they coined the “Aqualung” was absolutely revolutionary as the principle technology for underwater work was either helmets which required air hoses supplying breathing gas from the surface and drug through the water column by the diver, or shallow water closed circuit rebreathers which could only be safely used to about 25 feet or 8 meters… (the shallow limits were a safety measure to avoid potential high oxygen levels that could cause oxygen toxicity as shallow as 35 feet or roughly 12 meters, so by restricting their use to several meters shallower provided a safety buffer)

But since much of the world was swept up in WWII and France was occupied by Nazi forces from Germany, the Cousteau-Gagnan Aqualung invention was kept classified as it posed a real wartime threat had Nazi forces been able to capture that technology.

The Aqua-Lung could be used much deeper like helmets but without surface hoses yet had the freedom of full autonomy like the rebreathers but without the shallow use restrictions.. in essence the Cousteau-Gagnan units offered the best features of both of the other dive technologies and could allow for deeper clandestine insertions into harbors to plant explosive ordinance on ships in port.

That potential game-changer military risk meant that the technology had to be protected from falling into German hands. After the conclusion of the war the Aqualungs were introduced into the commercial marketplace as C-G 45 units signifying Cousteau and Gagnan along with reference to 1945 and were built in 1946 by French welding gas supply company La Air Liquide subsidiary company La Spirotechnique which began full scale production of the C-G process regulators for distribution in Europe, Canada and by late 1949 into the United States.

La Spirotechnique continued manufacturing an entire array of newly designed diving apparatus for the European marketplace while in Canada, Canadian liquid air and in the United States, U.S. Divers-Aqualung took over those responsibilities in North America.

On display In the Avalon Diving History Exhibit (ADHE) is perhaps the finest example of a 1958 La Spirotechnique Cousteau-Gagnan diving rig fully complete.. it is rare, but its condition is as good as when it was brand new and is an important and significant piece of early era diving history. Diving historian Mark Howell located this unit in France many years ago and brought it back to California as these systems were never imported for sale in the United States.

Mark wanted this unit to serve the public for educational purposes and now it has found a home to do just that here on Catalina island. Legitimate Diving history on display in the ADHE.

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On January 23rd 1960 the Swiss designed, Italian built and American piloted Bathyscaph “Trieste” dove into history as she plunged into the very pit of the world’s deepest point in the Challenger Deep of the Mariana Trench near Guam in the South Pacific Ocean. The two men on board Trieste, Naval lieutenant and pilot Don Walsh along with Jacques Piccard also went down in history as the first human beings to venture into waters exerting 16,000 pounds of pressure on every square inch of surface area of their craft. But the man who was in charge of that mission, known as project Nekton was a Southern California native son. Thirty six year old Andreas (Andy) B. Rechnitzer who was the science officer in charge of the program and also who convinced the U.S. Navy and Congress to purchase the craft from the designer Auguste Piccard, father to Jacques.

When project Nekton was underway, Rechnitzer was already world renowned for co-authoring the syllabus by which dive instruction was modeled, the discovery of various undersea creatures including the sub tropical butterfly fish which is part of the Scripps oceanographic institutes logo design. Andy is the only person in history to have won the illustrious NOGI award, (the Oceanographic equivalent of an Oscar) three separate times. That measure alone depicts the incredible impact and influence Andy had on oceanography, Deep Submergence and scuba diving.
In 1994 I was part of a oceanic training mission in Key Largo, Florida called the “Scott Carpenter Man in the Sea” or “MITS” program which was largely based upon the U.S. Navy’s SEALAB I-III undersea laboratory experiments from the 1960’s.

My role was as lead submersible pilot instructor training students how to pilot a small research submarine. Other components of the program included living in undersea habitats, diving bell and hyperbaric chamber systems, and a host of high tech diving equipment all being taught by some pretty hefty ocean explorer names like Astronaut-Aquanaut Scott Carpenter, Naval Aquanaut Bob Barth, Tecktite Aquanaut Ian Koblick, oceanographer Dr. Sylvia Earle and one Andreas B. Rechnitzer..

It was through the MITS program where I would meet and work with all of these incredibly influential people. But it was Andy who decided to try to pour his knowledge and lifetime experiences into my head.

We quickly became friends and remained so until his passing in late summer of 2005. But prior to his passing Andy and I spent an entire decade downloading his experiences into my eager ears.

It was Andy who shared his bits of wisdom which helped direct my life and career. During one conversation he told me; “Keep collecting old dive gear because one day it’ll be impossible to find, and keep writing about diving history because if it isn’t written it never happened. That piece of inspiration got me to keep asking him more and more questions and his unselfish willingness to furnish answers along with his prodding and encouragement kept me pointed in the right direction.. later on I asked what my role could possibly be preserving dive history and he calmly replied; You’ve got a unique perspective having been part of it in some ways, but mostly you care about it.. you have a genuine and authentic interest in it.. remember, if not you, then who? If not now, then when? …. Andy Rechnitzer had a true talent of stating things in a very simplistic fashion. When Andy died in 2005 it was a loss which shook the diving world and crushed me personally. Andy was one of those rare and unbelievably unique individuals who mixed intellect, curiosity, humor, pioneering spirit and real adventure into one lifetime.. I was blessed and supremely fortunate to spend time with him. In 2017 the Avalon Diving History Exhibit opened its doors in the world famous Casino building next to the Casino point dive park.. a perfect location to celebrate and teach the public about the early pioneers in diving. On pace to reach 100k visitors in its third year, the ADHE is reaching people, many of them the young, the next generation who may be inspired to pick up the torch and carry it forward. I remember Andy sharing one of Mark Twain’s more notable quotes with me.. “The two most important days of your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why”

For me, it’s doing what I can to help my community, share my experiences through teaching and try to make a positive difference along the way.

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On Sept 30th Mark made the drive to Oakland knowing that the sale had been in effect for nearly a month and that most of the gear had probably been picked over.

The Coastal school of diving had been established in 1951 and was located in Jack London square in what had become a pretty run-down section of waterfront. 1951 coincided with the very infancy of open circuit scuba equipment. Although the school was focused on commercial diving with helmets, hoses and compressors, Mark hoped that other dive related gear might be around.

Upon arrival Mark was met by Capt. A.A. Mikalow who told Mark that everything was for sale and to have fun digging through piles and piles of stuff spread out in the large warehouse setting.

The search began, under piles of coiled hose, behind and on top of large cabinets, inside drawers..hoping that something had been overlooked.

His work paid off as little trinkets like several double hose regulators, small boxes of parts, mouth pieces, rubber fins from the 1950’s etc began to gather in Mark’s little purchase pile.

While moving a stack of coiled airline hoses Mark saw something underneath..a small scuba tank with a colorful label from “Supreme Divers” from Toronto Canada and Buffalo N.Y.

Supreme Divers had been one of the earliest sport dive operations in North America and as such had come on during the very beginnings of scuba when standardized scuba gear was very new. Supreme Divers had relied heavily on converting old WWII B-17 bomber aircraft pilot’s oxygen bottles and modified pilots 02 diluter regulators into scuba systems.

Mark’s find was one of these conversion oxygen bottles.

He could see that the small volume tank was likely one of a pair and so he asked Capt. Mikalow if another tank was still around.. Mikalow said there was, but he had sold the twin manifold and harness to another buyer two weeks before who couldn’t locate the bottles. So Mark began moving more stacks of hose and there underneath was the other tank!

Fast forward several months and Mark was searching through eBay and sees an auction for a twin manifold and harness.. he contacted the seller who informed him that he’d purchased the items from the Coastal diving school sale and they both laughed at the coincidence of it all. Mark bought the items and then set about locating a regulator so he put out feelers in the diving blogs and chat rooms and was contacted by a man in Canada who had a Supreme divers diluter regulator that he’d trade for a rare US Divers double hose…which Mark happened to have.. the trade was made, and the 1955 Supreme Divers rig was complete.

Mark made a beautiful custom trunk and added Churchill fins, weight belt and a Sea-Net manufacturing “Sea Dive” mask to make a complete set.. the mask, fins and weights are unique in their own right because they were all the personal gear of diving pioneer Dick Anderson!

This complete and historical set of early era scuba gear is absolutely incredible!

It showcases a different time, early in the sport diving circle and is a valuable tool to teach new generations of divers about the origins of an industry.

This Supreme Divers gear now resides in the Avalon Diving History Exhibit (ADHE) on Catalina island Ca. It will be used to help tell the story of early scuba history and provide the public with a direct conduit to learning about the past and the pioneers who were part of it.

Incidentally.. Mark Howell was selected earlier this year as the recipient of the HDS-USA Nick Icorn Diving Heritage Award for 2020 in recognition of his many years of collecting and preserving diving history for future generations. Additionally the ADHE is tremendously grateful for this and many other display items that Mark has donated for the purpose of public good and education.

Thank you.

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